


good strong words that mean something

by sabinelagrande



Series: two flints [14]
Category: Taskmaster (UK TV) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Anniversary, Bondage, Claiming, Cock Bondage, Dom/sub, Flashbacks, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Blood, Mild Knifeplay, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:36:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29912907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: One day in February, and one day in June. In different years.
Relationships: Greg Davies/Alex Horne, Rhod Gilbert/Alex Horne
Series: two flints [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1639948
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	good strong words that mean something

**Author's Note:**

> Phew, okay, well.
> 
> So February 14 was the anniversary of _two flints_! It started with a silly idea I had, then dizmo ran with it, and here we are, damn near 60,000 words later. Thanks to everybody who's enjoyed it; it's meant a lot to us.

Greg is annoyed.

Not the Taskmaster; Greg. He has been since the afternoon, and it feels so strange, extremely uncomfortable. The Taskmaster is mercurial and cruel; Greg just really isn't. Sometimes he can be snappish or moody, but anybody can. At heart, he's a simple man with simple tastes, and when he folds in on himself, he can be coaxed back out with reliable results.

Alex has tried the usual things that placate him. He likes to be catered to, to be anticipated, to be _considered_. It isn't hard to come up with things to do, drinks or pieces of information presented to him, well-deployed flattery. It's just not working. Greg keeps looking at Alex with undisguised vexation, and Alex would give anything for him to just not look like that.

Alex is, of course, fully panicking. 

It's the end of the day, and Alex meekly follows along behind Greg as he returns to their room. He just doesn't know what Greg wants, and he doesn't want to offer the wrong thing, having apparently been doing it all day.

It didn't used to matter to him so much. It was easier when Greg was just a problem to solve, slot in the correct input and receive a solution. Sometimes it bothers him that he let it proceed to this point; mostly it bothers him that it doesn't bother him more.

"What day is it?" Greg demands, apparently in no mood to draw it out, which is in itself a kind of relief.

"February the fourteenth," Alex says, puzzled.

"And what day is that?" Greg asks.

Alex frowns. "St. Valentine's Day?" he says uncertainly. It cannot possibly be that Greg is mad at him for not giving him a card with a dead robin on it or whatever's fashionable right now.

Greg makes a noise of utter frustration, and Alex, as he is still wont to do, panics harder.

"It's when we brought Iain on," Alex says, "and Lou, but in different years. It's- it's almost Nish's half-birthday? It's the day we moved into the House-"

"Jesus, finally," Greg says. "Fucking took you long enough."

"Is that relevant to something?" Alex says gingerly.

"Is that-" Greg starts, incredulous. "For fuck's sake."

"I don't know what you want," Alex says, feeling a little miserable.

"Is it just unimportant to you that this is the day that we came here to do-" Greg says, waving his hands vaguely- "all of this?"

"Please just tell me what you want me to say," Alex says, because he can't do it like this, Greg actually mad at him about something that seems to matter. It makes him feel weak that he can't push through it, but he doesn't have another choice.

It seems to tamp down Greg's anger a little bit, which helps. "The fact that you seem uninterested in what amounts to our anniversary is a problem," he says.

Alex stares at him for a moment, utterly flummoxed.

"But this isn't our anniversary," he says, too confused to do anything but tell the truth.

"How in the hell is this not our anniversary?" Greg says.

"I wasn't yours until later," Alex says, and he has no idea why he feels bashful.

Greg lifts an eyebrow. "You were mine from the word go, and I don't know why you're pretending otherwise," he says, with a confidence that Alex built into him; he wouldn't have said that at the time.

"If the Taskmaster and his assistant have an anniversary, it's today," Alex says. "But as far as the, um, part that isn't for show, I'd been placing it around 16 June."

"What happened on the sixteenth of June?" Greg asks.

"Oh, quite a lot," Alex says. "It could be anywhere in a span of about a week? But the sixteenth of June is where, really, for me, it, um. Was."

Greg frowns. "What did I do to you on-" His eyebrows go up. "Oh, I remember what happened." He doesn't look guilty, but he does look thoughtful. "I used to treat you horribly."

"It was fine," Alex says quickly.

"Yeah, but I don't think you really liked it as much," Greg says.

Alex isn't even sure he could call that a lie. Greg still does abhorrent things to him, unspeakable by good folk, but it's the _way_ he does it, like Alex is a thing, but a cherished one, a prize to hoard jealously. Greg doesn't hold himself back, not even a sliver, like he trusts both of them to be able to deal with it.

Perhaps it's because they weren't in love then. That changed a lot of things.

"What's our anniversary, then?" Alex says, and saying it out loud feels bizarre, like something that belongs to another person, that he is not entitled to say.

"Well," Greg says. "We've got 16 June."

"It has its merits," Alex says.

* * *

It was hot.

It was unseasonably hot, actually. It was only early summer, but there'd been a burst of heat this week. The majority of the rooms on the ground floor of Sally's didn't have windows; there were a pair on either side of Greg's bed, but Alex staunchly refused to have a ground floor window open while he slept.

Not that Alex was sleeping. Greg was in bed; he was presumably asleep, though it was hard to tell since, surprisingly, he didn't snore to any great degree. At any rate, he wasn't moving, which was enough for Alex. Greg couldn't see him, placed as he was on the floor at the foot of the bed, curled into what was more or less a huge basket with cushions in it. Greg had been deeply skeptical; Alex just kept a straight face and said it was important, that it wouldn't do at all for anyone to come in here and find him reclining cozily.

Anyone coming in here right now was going to find him quite differently. He'd gone to bed- well, to basket- in his nightshirt, but he'd taken it off; it was cooler on the floor, but not by much. He had his cock in his hand, and he was trying, as he had been for several nights, to balance making as little noise as possible with getting off as soon as he could.

This was a very recent development, just the past week or so. Maybe it was the heat that made him do it, or maybe it wasn't. He'd been trying to hold out, but he hadn't been with anyone since before they started the operation. Going without usually didn't bother him much, but he wasn't accustomed to spending all his time in a situation where he was so frequently turned on. Key, the arsehole, had of course been right: everything Alex needed in a Taskmaster was everything he wanted in bed. Alex had assumed that either Greg would crack like an egg immediately or be so transparently uninterested that Alex could shrug it right off.

But it had been four months, and neither of those options had arisen. The Taskmaster was shaping up exactly as Alex wanted him to, and that meant being at his side every day, attending to his every whim. He kept looking at Alex like he was a thing, something to use, something he owned, unquestionably his. 

They'd had a supplicant who looked just a little too appraisingly at Alex, and the Taskmaster had grabbed the leg of his assistant's chair and dragged him over, like he was daring the man to take another step.

He'd already come thinking about it. Twice.

It was taking a little longer tonight; the last thing Alex needed was to try and force himself and end up extending this unnecessarily. His mind drifted a bit, just sort of trying to find something handy. It did occur to him that for a decent rate, he could go upstairs and this wouldn't be an issue, but Sally didn't currently, ah, cater to Alex's demographic. Besides, Sally still wanted him for Greg, and she'd probably just give him words of encouragement and send him back.

But there were other people of his acquaintance. If he thought about Key he'd go flaccid, and Ed also didn't cater to his demographic. Watto had a certain charm. He was considering any of this because he was trying not to land on something very specific, which he was going to get to anyway.

His impression of Rhod, examining him from across a pub, was that he was argumentative, dangerous, and attractive, in that order. Being around him all day just served to amplify that opinion tenfold, on all three counts. He was useful and such an odd man; Greg resolutely did not talk to Rhod about the specifics of his activities, and the fact Rhod didn't try said a lot about both of them.

Rhod had slammed Alex against the wall once, in the back corridor, pinning him with one arm. Alex could have broken it easily, and he had a knife; it was just that Rhod had several knives and would not hesitate to stick Alex if provoked. Rhod was shorter, but seemed to loom over him.

"You sneaky little shit," Rhod said. "Maybe Roisin and the steam locomotive didn't notice, but I did."

Alex started carefully inching his hand towards his knife. It wouldn't do to kill Rhod, but Alex was going to defend himself.

Rhod smoothly called a blade into his hand from apparently nowhere. "Hands where I can see 'em," he said, and Alex very slowly and carefully put his hands up, putting them against the wall to either side of his head. It put him in an easier defensive position, not that Rhod knew that he knew anything about defensive positions at all.

"I'm not sure what you're referring to," Alex said evenly. Rhod knew basically everything, but there were pieces being tucked back, things only Alex and/or Greg knew.

"You were in the pub," Rhod said, and Alex tried not to physically relax. It was immaterial if Rhod knew that, though it was impressive. "You sat there studying us like a little freak."

"I did," Alex said. "I had to make sure you were the people I needed."

Alex didn't really care about or need Rhod and Roisin. He wasn't going to tell Rhod that. Seemed unwise.

"You think you've got all your plans," Rhod said, moving his face closer. "If you ever fuck with me, or Greg, or Roisin, you won't live to make them happen. You're smart." Alex made himself keep from flinching as Rhod drew the tip of the knife up Alex's index finger. He was doing it so deftly that it was only a scratch, but at the end he made a little flicking motion; a drop of bright red blood started to well up.

"You should see to that," Rhod said casually, nodding at the blood. 

Just to see what Rhod would do, Alex brought his hand to his mouth and sucked on his fingertip, not taking his eyes away from Rhod's. In that moment, Alex was utterly, entirely sure that the two of them were on exactly the same level, which was fascinating and incredibly arousing.

"Let me know when you figure out His Grace isn't going to make a move," Rhod said, and he let Alex go and walked off.

He'd been thinking about it since, about if Rhod was right, about how it might feel so good to get cut to ribbons, literally or not. He was thinking about it right that second, his hand moving quicker on his cock, and it was really starting to help. If he could just finish, he could get some sleep, and if thinking about Rhod with a knife in his hand was what got the job done, then so be it.

"Hey," Greg snapped, and Alex startled, shocked. Greg was standing over him, naked, and Alex had no idea when he'd gotten there. "Having some unauthorized leisure time, are we? Couldn't control yourself and thought you'd interrupt my sleep instead?"

There was absolutely no way Greg wouldn't have slept through the tiny amount of noise Alex had been making. That meant he was already up, and Alex had no way of knowing whether he'd heard Alex previously and had been waiting for the moment, or whether this had just happened all at once.

At some point, Greg had lit the lamp on the bedside table, and with that and the moonlight, Alex could see his face, the way his eyes raked over Alex's body. Alex chose to bite his lip rather than panting; they were so close now, and Alex needed it more than he could express, the gap to seal.

"Were you down here thinking of me?" Greg said, with absolutely no indication in manner as to what the correct answer was.

"No, sir," Alex said, going with honesty, because for once, it was easier.

"Hmm," Greg said, and Alex had no idea what it meant.

Maybe it was time to just flail. "I'm sorry, sir, I shouldn't have-"

"Shouldn't have what?" Greg asked, raising an eyebrow.

This was a test, and Alex couldn't handle the thought of not passing. "I shouldn't have been thinking about someone else."

"On the bed," Greg said, pointing. Alex really wanted to catch his breath, but he scrambled instead, up onto the mattress.

"How would you like me, sir?" Alex said, kneeling for the moment.

"On your belly," Greg said, and Alex quickly obeyed. He frowned at the sound of ripping fabric; when he turned his head, Greg was tearing strips from the bedsheet. The sheet had already been worn through, and Sally kept telling him to tear it up for rags. It looked like that wasn't what it was going to be used for, though Alex wasn't entirely sure what Greg intended. Sally would probably approve anyway.

"Eyes front," Greg snapped, and Alex did it. "This is what you wanted, isn't it, boy? Ever since the beginning, you've been dying for me to claim you, not just for show."

"Yes, sir," Alex said, because he couldn't bear the thought of having to fight back, of pretending he wasn't craving it with every fiber of his being.

"Then it's your lucky day," Greg said, and he put a strip of cloth over Alex's eyes, tying it at the back of his head. "After tonight, you're mine, and there's nothing you can do about it."

There was no way in hell he was going to do anything at all resembling objecting. That opinion didn't change when Greg grabbed his wrists. He bound them with strips of the bedsheet; Alex could have slipped them, but it felt too good. The position made him feel like a supplicant, like he was begging on his belly for favor. At this point, he would, if that was what it took.

He jumped as Greg slapped him hard on the ass. "You're going to make yourself useful," Greg said, then hit him again. "You're going to get what I need to fuck you properly."

"What- ah," Alex started, then broke off when Greg spanked him again. That clearly wasn't going to stop, so he was just going to have to talk through it, while he also focused on not humping the bed. "What do you like to use, sir?"

"Ropes," Greg said, both his big hands landing on Alex's ass at once. "Wrist restraints. Leather straps." He landed a blow at the join of Alex's ass and thigh, and Alex gasped. "Both kinds, I think. I want to see your backside covered in marks."

Greg spanked him several times in quick succession, which was making it very hard to form thoughts. His ass already felt hot, and he really hoped it was turning red. "If I may, sir?" he managed to say somehow.

"Go on," Greg said, grabbing a big handful of flesh and squeezing, making Alex hiss.

"I have some other suggestions for things you might enjoy using that you haven't heard about or haven't considered," Alex said, with absolutely no idea how he got all the way through it, except for rushing.

"Intriguing," Greg said, shoving Alex's thighs apart and getting between them. This was all becoming very real, and god, how he wanted it to. "Then that's your task, boy. I'll give you the cash, you bring me the items." He grabbed Alex's hips and hoisted him up, folding him into the correct shape. "Your time doesn't start now. I'm busy."

"Yes, sir," Alex said. He shut his eyes, even with the blindfold, because it was just so much. He made a noise of pain when Greg bit him, hard, right on the curve of his ass. It would have hurt anywhere, but crossing where he'd just been spanked made it much worse. And Greg wasn't playing around, biting and sucking like he meant to leave a mark. Alex's cock was absolutely dripping, and the pain did nothing to calm it down.

Greg took his mouth away. "This won't work," he said critically, and Alex's stomach dropped. He cried out as Greg flicked the head of his cock, hard enough to really sting. "Look at you. I could fuck you dry and it wouldn't be enough to keep you from coming the instant I stuck it in."

"I won't, sir," Alex said quickly. He was willing to say anything if it got Greg to fuck him, but he also could easily control himself.

Probably.

"Not good enough," Greg said, and Alex could hear him ripping another piece off the sheet. The strip across his eyes wasn't entirely opaque, but in the low light, it was more than enough for him to lack any sense of what Greg was doing. Greg finished his tearing, then there was a soft susurration, which Alex couldn't guess at.

He jumped when Greg grabbed his cock. "Hold still," he said, though he'd probably done it on purpose. Things became clearer when Alex felt something- a twisted-up piece of bedsheet, perhaps- slip around his cock. Greg knew what he was doing, trussing Alex up properly, until both his cock and balls were bound. There was no way he was coming without it being taken off. One of the tails of the sheet rope was much longer, and Alex could feel it brushing against his thigh.

By rights, he could have been afraid. Greg could do what he liked with him. Alex could best him, even like this, but not before Greg did him some serious injury. And what if Alex got away? Even if Greg didn't, Alex would have to blow the whole operation. He'd have to burn everything to the ground, maybe literally.

But everything within him wanted to lie there and take it. It was exactly what he'd been craving, what he'd needed so desperately from Greg and had to bite his tongue on over and over. Everything within this bed was so simple, so clear, so easy. All he had to do was follow instructions and be used.

Greg put a hand on his hip, and Alex could hear him slicking up his cock with something. "If I do this, it means you belong to me," he said darkly.

"Yes, sir," Alex said, so far gone he could only be genuine. "Yes, sir, please, I belong to you."

"You'll let me have you however I want you," Greg said, the head of his cock pressing against Alex's entrance.

"Yes," Alex said; Greg was apparently just going to skip the prep, but it was so hard to care when it meant he'd have Greg inside him so much faster. "Everything you want, sir."

"You might live to regret it," Greg said, and Alex gasped as Greg started to push into him. The only thing for it was to relax, try to say with his body how much he really, really didn't mind. It helped that there was plenty of oil and Alex desperately wanted it to be happening. He could get through a lot of pain and discomfort to get something he wanted.

"You do like this," Greg said, like he was appraising Alex, and Alex couldn't remember whether he was supposed to be pretending not to. It must have shown, because Greg slapped him hard on the ass. "Calm down. You acting like you hate it doesn't get me off any harder."

Alex felt relieved, in a way he didn't quite want to process. Instead he just pushed his hips back, closing the distance until Greg was all the way inside.

"That's a bit more fucking like it," Greg said, slapping him again. He shifted, and Alex felt Greg's fingers against his inner thigh, taking hold of the piece of bedsheet. "Tonight, you either come on my cock, or you don't come at all."

Alex readily translated this as, "You don't get to come," given his current situation, but right now he couldn't care. Greg was sliding in and out of him in long thrusts, and he just took it, his body opening for Greg's like there had never been another choice. Maybe there hadn't; Alex had wanted him from the beginning, and he was never going to turn Greg down, no matter what that meant.

"Christ," Greg said through his teeth, and it sounded off. Alex couldn't quite put his finger on why, but he had a suspicion and didn't like it.

"Please, sir," Alex said, canting his hips up. "Sir, please, give me more." He wasn't hitting it right and he knew it. "I want you," he said, a little softer but too loud to ignore. He hated saying it, regardless of whether it was true, but if Greg needed to hear it, he would. "I want you so much, sir, please take me."

"Pipe down," Greg said, though Alex could hear the relief in his voice. "If you're not careful with the way you run your mouth, you're going to get more than you bargained for."

Alex wanted to say that it wouldn't be the first time, but instead he pressed his face into what remained of the bedding and offered himself up. It was vastly preferable, because now Greg was really fucking him, giving him exactly what he wanted. He wanted to melt into the bed, just turn into a puddle, reduced to nothing but need. His cock was aching, and it only made it better; he didn't want to be denied, but if that was what Greg wanted for him, he'd take it.

Greg slapped his ass again, and Alex just moaned. He couldn't stop wondering if Greg could hit him in just the right way to leave a big handprint, his fingers traced on Alex's skin. He'd already left him a bite mark, and the knowledge that there would be more, that he'd finally caught this thing he'd been reaching for, made him shake.

Greg wasn't one to tire easily, and he just kept pushing into Alex, driving him on. He wanted dearly to claw at the mattress for purchase, but the way his hands were bound didn't leave it as an option. There was nothing to be done but accept it, and Alex did. He just opened up and took it, and even that felt like the rarest luxury.

"I told you you could come if you could do it on my cock," Greg said, out of breath. It felt like a non sequitur, and Alex didn't say anything. He felt a tug on the strip of bedsheet that Greg was apparently still holding; for half a second, he was a little alarmed, but then Greg pulled harder, a sharp yank, and Alex suddenly realized what was about to happen.

The trick knot came apart, and Alex felt rather than saw what happened next: the fabric, no longer under tension, untwisted, and Alex was very suddenly free. There was nothing holding him back, nothing keeping him in check, and Greg wasn't stopping, driving into him, bottoming out. Alex went off immediately, marking up his chest with it, a shocked noise escaping him as he gave it all up.

Greg laughed breathlessly. "That's a good boy," he said, grabbing both of Alex's shoulders and pounding into him. Alex couldn't muster anything at all, so he just took it, Greg fucking into him with all his might until he filled Alex with his come.

And then it was done, Greg's big body still trapping him against the bed in a way that felt too nice to stop. He hadn't pulled out just yet, and Alex sort of didn't want him to. He couldn't just lay here with Greg in him, but what if he could, what if he could just not give up this feeling?

"Who do you belong to?" Greg said.

The question was out of nowhere and didn't catch Alex off-guard at all. "You, sir," he said. "I belong to you."

"Good boy," Greg said, though it was dampened somewhat by the fact he got up.

"Should I-" Alex started.

"You should lay there and let me clean up," Greg said, firmly but not cruelly. He picked out the knot in the wrappings around Alex's wrists. "There, that should get you."

It wasn't very hard to undo his bindings; they hadn't been chosen to be fiendishly difficult. He was thrown off when something wet and cool touched his ass.

"Calm down," Greg said. "You can take that blindfold off, it's making you jumpy."

By the time Alex had freed himself, Greg had already cleaned him up and climbed in bed next to him. Alex reached for the blindfold, and it was ridiculous that anything was stopping him from taking it off. He just didn't quite know what he was going to see, in a sense that he couldn't really convey the import of.

It was just that he was going to see the rest of his life, and that was a lot to reckon with.

It was a very ridiculous thought; he pulled the blindfold off and dropped it to the floor, out of sight. Greg was lying there next to him, turned to look at Alex. "Alright?" Greg said, putting a hand on the small of his back.

Part of Alex wanted to react against it, lash out at kindness, but there was no reason. It had been a long time since he'd had any moment that felt remotely like safety, but in this room there was something akin to it. It would evaporate by morning, but that was unimportant right now.

"Fine," Alex said, turning over, and he didn't move away when Greg kissed him.

* * *

"But we don't have any similar inciting incident for 14 February," Alex points out.

"Strip," Greg says. "I'll show you exactly what I meant to incite, before I was so rudely interrupted."

Alex does it quickly, well accustomed at this point. He climbs onto the bed; Greg likes him on his knees at first, and he waits patiently, curious as to how this is going to go.

"On your back," Greg says, and Alex does it, head resting on Greg's pillow. Greg studies him as he undoes his cravat, and it makes Alex feel flushed, the weight of his eyes and how desperately Alex wants to be what he wants to look at.

"Cuff yourself," Greg says, still undressing. There are a pair of leather restraints that hang from the bedstead more or less permanently; Alex is extremely familiar with their operation. They buckle but don't lock, and it's easy enough to get the left one on. The right one takes a bit more flexibility; there are already teeth marks in the leather from Alex putting it on, and he adds a few more, working the buckle with his mouth until he's done up tight.

"You are such a clever boy," Greg says, sounding amused. Naked, he climbs into the bed, pushing Alex's knees apart so he can kneel between them. "And all mine, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," Alex says. If he was being honest with himself, it was never hard to say it, but by now it's easy as anything. "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to lay there while I have fun," Greg says, kissing him, in that way that made everything in Alex start to settle. 

It was never his intention to become so _known_ , worked out; he doesn't know if Greg actually understands him or if anybody could, but he doesn't feel like a puzzle with Greg on top of him. He doesn't feel like much of a puzzle with Greg around in general, not when they're alone.

Greg kisses down the side of his neck, stopping to bite his shoulder; Alex breathes in sharply as Greg bites down hard, sucking. He'll have a mark there, and he doesn't mind that a bit. He likes it better when Greg leaves marks. They could be separated so suddenly- they already have been, just once- and it's like having Greg stuck to him, inseparable.

Alex is a little disappointed when Greg lets his shoulder go, but he keeps moving downwards. "Here's some better real estate," Greg says, dragging his nails down the insides of Alex's thighs. Alex isn't quite sure what that means, until Greg bites down again, getting a big mouthful of Alex. It hurts more, here, the skin sensitive, and Alex sighs, relaxing into the pillow.

Greg is certainly entertaining himself, biting up and down Alex's thighs, stopping here and there to be particularly vicious. He's going to have overlapping rings of the impressions of Greg's teeth, and it sounds amazing. It's such a good, honest kind of pain, the kind that hurts and then keeps throbbing, leaving a reminder.

Alex is nothing but a lump by the time Greg sits back. He feels loosened, unstuck, in the way that only Greg can do to him. Greg is looking down at him with a dark pleasure in his eyes that Alex can feel in his core. "Look at the state of you," Greg says, running a finger through the pool of precome on Alex's abdomen.

Alex might have a response, but Greg puts his finger in his mouth, making Alex suck his own taste off of it. There were worse fates.

"If you come," Greg says, in the sharp way that Alex knows he has to pay attention to, "it means absolutely nothing to me, because I'm not stopping until I'm spent."

Alex isn't quite sure what that's going to end up meaning. "Yes, sir," he says, only a little irritated by how gone he sounds.

Greg left the oil on the bed, a little ways away, and he picks it up. Instead of opening it, he rearranges himself, and Alex realizes what he's about to do.

"Sir-" Alex says, uneasily.

"No one asked for your opinion," Greg says, and he takes Alex's cock into his mouth.

Alex twists in his restraints. It isn't that he dislikes the sensation, which is quite nice. There's just a fundamental wrongness to it. That's something he does to Greg, not the other way around. This isn't what he's here for; it's something that serves nothing, just for Alex, who doesn't deserve it.

"Struggle if you want," Greg says, pulling off. "It's not going to make me stop. You're mine, and I get to do as I please. If I want your cock down my throat, then that's where it's going." Alex can't help the way his hand moves, testing how to get out. Greg puts a hand on his thigh. "Hey," he says, in a gentler voice. "Just let me suck your dick. Don't make it weird."

Alex can't stop the laugh that escapes him, even if it's just a puff of air. He nods, not sure of what he might say if he spoke. Greg takes him into his mouth again, and Alex tries to focus on the feeling of it. It does feel good, and he already desperately wants to come.

The way he tenses when he feels Greg's finger brushing his hole is completely involuntary, but he quickly relaxes. Greg pushes inside with one finger, all the way to the knuckle without stopping. "That's what you needed," Greg says, sounding exasperated and fond at the same time, before taking him down again.

He isn't wrong. It flips things; this isn't something that's happening for Alex and Alex alone. Now he can be useful, now it has a point. Greg is getting him ready, making him into a thing to fuck, winding Alex up so he'll be ready to be used. Alex relaxes; it's much easier to enjoy it now, Greg's thick fingers spreading him, making him useful.

Greg clearly intends to take his time about it. Alex doesn't usually expect it to be a job done slowly; it's a means to an end, something more to make Greg comfortable than him. Instead, Greg is rocking his fingers in and out slowly, sinking them deep inside. He's still sucking Alex off, moving his head, taking Alex almost to the root. There's no hesitation about any of it, no sense that this is somehow a jab or a game. It might be easier if Alex thought it was.

But ever so slowly, Alex loses track. He relaxes into the bed, his wrists still held aloft by the restraints. Greg is working three fingers into him now, moving easily with how slick and open Alex is. That's how Greg makes him feel, opened up, exposed, but in a way that somehow feels okay.

Alex makes a noise when Greg pulls away; he reaches out even despite the restraints, but gets nowhere. It doesn't matter, because Greg is right there. He lifts Alex up by his hips, compensating for their heights, and pushes into him as easy as breathing. Alex sighs, feeling whole, like he and Greg are interlocked into one thing.

Greg laughs, a soft chuckle with no trace of cruelty. "I've got you, haven't I?"

It's warm, completely confident, and Alex can feel it, somewhere in his spine. "Yes, sir," Alex says, in a voice he doesn't recognize, almost dreamlike. "I belong to you."

"Good boy," Greg says, and then he starts moving, pushing in deep, thrusts that shake Alex's body. Alex lets his head fall back, but it doesn't stop Greg from arching over him, kissing him intently.

Alex just takes it, takes it all, lets it happen. It feels so good to have Greg inside of him, pushing in over and over. If it weren't for being bound, he'd be reaching out; his hands strain to touch anyway.

"Just take it," Greg says, fucking him faster, his fingers digging into Alex's thighs. "You know you want to give up."

"Yes," Alex says, without even thinking about it, thrusting his hips up against Greg's.

"Leave it to me," Greg says, breathless but so steady, like there's never been a doubt nor ever will be.

Alex is a creature of doubts, the whole point of his existence to manage and control and second guess. But Greg, somehow, mystically or through Alex's work, can wipe it all away; in the microcosm of their room, he can be enough for the both of them.

Greg doesn't stop, just driving into him over and over again. Distantly Alex can tell he's already sore, but that seems completely meaningless. He's getting closer and closer to coming, the tension in him forming into a knot that seems to settle at the bottom of his spine. He can feel himself tightening, his whole body curling in.

"Fuck," Greg says under his breath. He's got one of Alex's legs held up, resting on his shoulder to give him the angle he wants. It leaves Alex's calf right next to his face, and Greg sinks his teeth into it, sucking hard, like he means to mark him even here, like every bit of Alex is his to mark- because it is.

Alex arches up when he comes, his body thrashing. It feels so good that he can't stop himself, almost like he's trying to move away from how intense it is. Greg puts his hands on his shoulders, bearing him down, holding him steady; he doesn't stop, his hips still snapping into Alex's. It doesn't last long, and Alex feels him come, stilled suddenly deep inside him.

Alex thinks he might either fall asleep or pass out, but he doesn't stay anything. Greg undoes the cuffs, and Alex puts his arms around him, unable to bear not touching him for another moment. Greg bends down and kisses him, running his hand over Alex's hair.

Greg does eventually have to move, but he just rolls to the side, his hand resting on Alex's chest. Something about the motion is possessive and vulnerable at the same time, and Alex doesn't stop him. It's cool in the room, the stove lit but dwindling, needing more fuel. He can bear it as long as Greg is next to him; Greg radiates heat, and also Alex can just bear most things with Greg next to him.

Perhaps it's appropriate that this is St. Valentine's Day, because Alex really is quite soppy these days.

"How on earth do you know when Nish's half-birthday is?" Greg asks idly, as they lie there.

"Because he walks around talking about how he should get two birthdays, and Watto thinks it's delightful," Alex says.

"That's fair," Greg replies. "Just seemed like an odd thing to say."

"I keep a lot of odd pieces of information in my head," Alex says. "I just usually try to make sure they're actually useful."

"Hm," Greg says. "With you, that could mean some _very_ odd things."

"That's what you keep me around for," Alex says.

"It really isn't," Greg says.

Neither of them say anything for a while, just resting. They've had many silences like it, by this point, enough that it doesn't bother either of them.

"I almost went to Rhod first," Alex says. He's never admitted it before, but for some reason he needs to say it.

"I know," Greg says, sounding unamused.

Alex frowns, perplexed. "How?"

"This is Rhod we're talking about here," Greg says. "He told me."

"Oh," Alex says, trying to slot it all in, make it fit. "Would it have stopped you?"

Greg sighs. "D'you know, I don't know," he says. "Better we never had to find out. And he weaseled his way in there anyway, the prick."

Sometimes Alex is in awe of how Greg can just not know things, not feel compelled to find every aspect of a situation and spool it out. It would sound like an insult if Alex said it, but he admires that, the certainty in being uncertain.

"How can you still be thinking so loudly," Greg says.

"Sorry, sir," Alex says, feeling a bit guilty.

"Just means I didn't work hard enough," Greg says. He grabs Alex and manhandles him until he's resting primarily on Greg. "I know how it is with you. You work best when you get fucked out regularly."

"Oh?" Alex says, raising an eyebrow, not sure he likes the insinuation.

"Yeah," Greg says, grabbing his ass. "You wad yourself up into a little ball. You're sharper when somebody can relax you." He rolls his eyes. "You're doing it right now. You're second-guessing me because I said you should have nice things, because you think it sounded like I said I was doing this to keep you docile."

"Hm," Alex says. He doesn't enjoy it when Greg says things he isn't supposed to know.

"You're ridiculous," Greg says, kissing him. "And you're undoing all my delicate work."

"I don't remember any of it being delicate," Alex says.

"Get up and get me some rope," Greg says, slapping his ass before putting his hands behind his head. "It's starting to seem like you need a lesson."

"Yes, sir," Alex says, climbing off of Greg and turning towards the wardrobe.

"Hey," Greg says sharply, and Alex turns back. "I love you."

He says it like Alex would do well to remember it, like he refuses to be contradicted. It eases something in Alex, how unshakeable it sounds, how uncompromising. "I love you, too," he says.

"And do something about that fucking stove, I'm going to freeze my tits off," Greg says.

"Yes, sir," Alex says. Naked is probably one of the worst ways to deal with a stove, but he'll manage. It won't do to leave Greg in the cold.

Perhaps they have two anniversaries. It's probably fine.


End file.
